


The feeble felonies of our peculiar feelings (A betrayal of variance)

by DeyaniraSan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aromantic, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, EMA trio love because EMA trio, Hurt/Comfort, I have no idea what this is besides self-indulgent, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships, Slow Burn, Tiny mentions of acephobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeyaniraSan/pseuds/DeyaniraSan
Summary: Eren realised he was different since his early childhood. He didn't know different how... just different, not that it mattered much to him, as much as it seemed to confuse everyone else. Though he never anticipated exactly how much more confusing everything could become until Levi came into the mix.(aka Eren has no clue how to deal with his queer feelings, or even how to begin to figure himself out when it comes to what he feels for Levi.)





	1. Of undesired feelings and unwanted questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Niahara_Erskine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niahara_Erskine/gifts).



> This is literally written on the spur of the moment; a very self-indulgent queerplatonic ereri fic, because we need more queerplatonic ereri love. Literally I have no idea where I am going with this but here we go.
> 
> @naeriels: hope you'll enjoy this mess ugh.

He is 9 when the thought passes through his mind, softer than a gush of wind, barely treading through the surface of his consciousness.

He is small, still a child – even if he is no longer innocent, if such a thing ever existed in a world constantly shadowed with the promise of death; he knows that because he feels it in the strength of his ever present anger, a suffocating burden he cannot get rid of, and in the tainted memory of red blood coating and coursing through fingers  that doesn’t really leave his memories when he doesn’t concentrate on it– so it comes as no surprise that he is still so unexperienced in all matters of the world.

Mikasa has been with them for only a few months now, but Eren knows how important she is for him. They might not have been related by blood or known each other for long, but their connection is very strong, a combination of warmth intertwined with a feeling of rightness born out of ordinary yet special moments. And perhaps it doesn’t matter in the large scheme of things that each time after a nightmare she slithers her delicate hand into his, or that she tends to come one step closer to his side when going shopping, or the way he knows she is always hovering behind him, a scared shadow and a sturdy determined protector, black eyes gleaming with muted grief and stubborn protectiveness, but for Eren all these moments are extremely special, quietly powerful, a replica of the person Mikasa is herself.

Without doubt, Eren is sure he loves Mikasa, a logical conclusion in regards to their strong connection. It is a feeling of belonging that comes as naturally to him as the urge to close his arms around her when she seems close to crying, a candid fire he recognises as similar to the feelings he gets from his mother’s smiles and from the rare affectionate touches of his father. Armin understand this, understands the way he needs to hover close to Mikasa when she is shaking in a back alley on their way to town, fighting against the memory of violent hands that can no longer touch her, understands each time Eren _knows_ he needs to mention three simple words against Mikasa’s temple, a reminder of why she deserves – needs - to be alive for a while longer when the world becomes too much her. Armin was always smart, so he understood all this and never mocked Eren for his uncharacteristic moments of tender comfort he offers to the newest member of his family. If anything, he joins in kind, the trio finding contentment in each other, together, through a quiet love, warming the cold edge of a cruel world cutting all around them through the cage’s bars that seem to loom closer with each day.

The other kids do not understand.

Eren is 9 when the other boys overhear his whispered ‘I love you’s to Mikasa. He is 9 when they mock him for it, when he is suddenly hit in the face with unkind words over his affection. They are derisive snide comments about getting married, and some others, which make his heart stutter in discomfort and horror before pumping with anger – and shame – his face blanching in surprise and discomfort, before a scowl mars his features, his knuckles hurting when they hit and hit _and hit_ , defending his sister from those words until they finally stop. Mikasa bandages the wounds with quiet reproaches, and he begrudgingly accepts them. Yet, she cannot stop the panicky feeling from overtaking his lungs, running along through his veins like fizzling poison, his whole being blanching at the way his words have been turned around against him, his feelings so wrongfully interpreted.

He is 9 when ladies at the market coo when he hold Mikasa’s hand tightly in his, calling him a ‘small gentleman’ and making quiet observations, coaxing promises from him he previously also made, but uttered at the encouragement of their smiling lips, his whole chest constricts in a claustrophobic feeling as he tries not to let his smile waver as he confirms that indeed he would never let something happen to Mikasa.

He is 9 when he thinks there is something wrong with him and what it could mean. He is 9 when he looks around at the world that has a different definition for the word ‘love’, one that means secret longing looks and clasped hands and kisses and intense feelings he sees in the eyes of couples around town that seems so foreign to the calm warmth he feels for his family, Armin and Mikasa. He doesn’t know what it means when he pounds a boy his age for implying Mikasa is nothing more than a _thing_ belonging to him, and as his knuckles hit bone, and his lip is bleeding because of his efforts, his mind is screaming with confusion because he just does _not_ understand. He does not understand their implications beyond the fact that it makes his skin itch and his soul crumble on itself in fear and bristle in rejection, and that he wants so bad to will their assumptions away.

Armin says to give it time. Mikasa only looks at him with dark, sad eyes when he stops holding her hand when going to the market when her panic attacks become less frequent but doesn’t comment on it, even if Eren is close enough to her to know she sees through his fake – real, real, they are _real_ – words about emancipation and growing up. And to the rest of the world he responds in fury and barely contained insults, until their words die out before they are even uttered. Yet, at times he sees them in their eyes, when his body is too close to Armin’s, his senses too comfortable with a childhood of cuddles to suddenly learn to keep away, or when his worried comforting gestures happen to often with Mikasa. And he has to bite his lip, has to swallow the anger – that burns, burns and never stops coursing through his veins making him act before he knows it at times, flames turning his insides into ashes of smothering intensity in their wake – and pretend he does not understand what is happening. And it takes a bit, but in the end, the discomfort passes, and unwillingly, unconsciously small Eren learns to maybe stand a few inches away from his friends, learns what is considered weird or unusual, and he learns not to do it again.

When he is 12 the whole world is gone in between falling rubble and stains of blood, tears mingling in between screams of horror; a grim reminder of hopelessness and loss, and his world is reduced to a intense pain barely muffled by his anger pulsing, pushing and demanding, as acidic as the bile that rises in his throat in horror.

All childish worries are drowned in the violent cries of his mother as she is snapped in two, an image painted onto his retina, a terrifying loop replying behind his green eyes again, and again, _and again,_ until his small body caves into itself with pain, the contents of his mostly empty stomach – an usual occurrence most days - burning on their way out, as his hands can barely sustain him under the burden of grief, tears clouding his vision. And he forgets that it is wrong to seek the comfort of Armin’s embrace, that people will look twice if he muffles his screams in between Mikasa’s arms, his head cradled in against her chest as her own tears quietly blur her vision. There is only grief, and anger, and hardship, and an ocean of lost hurt that never dulls, never goes away, its tides always washing ashore the wasteland his life had become. So Eren accepts the few scraps of love his bleeding heart can manage and holds them with desperation, a reminder that he is still human, that he can still exist in the cage of hurt his life is.

It does not last.

He is not much older, barely 13 when he joins the army, and his life an inverted mirror of fabricated normalcy – he can only push the hurt away, bury it under the burning anger, that had turned smouldering, an inferno that leaves him parched and desperate – when he is reminded of the silly conflict that had started at the edge of his passing into adolescence.

The barracks are a surprising hell he had never accounted for.

At first he escapes the conversations. They are all so young, so traumatised, barely able to call themselves teenagers. So he supposes that people give him a passing because they assume that is he just too angry or too hurt to think about anything else. Not that they are wrong; he _is_ too hurt, so hurt that at times there are sudden flashes of clarity under the muffled curtain he succumbs his senses into through his single-minded fury, when he chokes down under the pain he barely keeps at bay, surprised with how much it hurts, even though he can never fully forget it either. But that’s how everyone is, and he is 14 when he realises for a second time, even clearer than the first time that he might be different from everyone else.

The other boys start talking. At first he ignores it, he shrugs it off, _doesn’t understand it._  But more time passes, and suddenly it seems like _everyone_ is just talking about sex. The whispered talks in the corners, almost bashful in the beginning become so overwhelmingly present in all contexts of conversation he can’t ignore them no matter how much he tries to. And it becomes an effort, something he just didn’t care for in the beginning suddenly occupying all conversations to the point he needs to muffle his ears to tune it out.

He just doesn’t understand it; _can’t understand it_ , not with the rage clouding his head and determination precariously keeping together the pieces of his heart. So when Connie grins towards him impishly one night when all the boys seem all too restless to sleep, and asks him who thinks is the hottest girl his mind blanches.

“Umm…,” he manages all too eloquently, the arms cradling the pillow in his lap becoming stiff with surprise. Apparently his hesitation is taken for shyness by Connie, who snickers before moving closer to elbow him encouragingly. His grin is expecting and eyes mischievous, and Eren feels suddenly so small and uncomfortable and maybe, a tiny bit lost, as his hands cradle the pillow closer, his mind muddled with panic unable to catch one coherent string of thought to answer anything.

“C’mon Eren, don’t be shy,” Connie prompts sniggering, and he can see Reiner smiling at the corner of his eyes, and Jean actually laughs towards the side on another bed. Only Armin catches his panicked look, the sheepish smile on his face fake, as he catches on Eren’s discomfort in seconds.

“You must _like_ someone,” Connie continues undeterred. “Who is it now? You are actually friends with a lot of the girl cadets. Which one is it? Is it Christa?” he suddenly asks.

“What?!” Eren almost yells in surprise at the sudden question, his mind having panicked too much for him to brace for the question. “What?!” he repeats. “No, god, no, Christa is a friend.”

“A very cute friend,” Connie comments leaning in conspiratorially, his elbow resting on Eren’s shoulder casually. And it is a move Eren has let him do a thousand times but suddenly he feels too small in his body, as if it’s all too tight, and he just wishes Connie would move away so he could _breathe_ and make the tension suddenly burdening his muscles go away.

“Well Christa is the cutest, that’s for sure,” Reiner comments as Eren forgets to answer with something that isn’t a pitiful yelp, “but maybe it is not his type. I mean she has all that cute and fragile thing going about her. Maybe Eren is the like that would like to be dominated. Like a balance to his anger issues, no hard feelings,” Reiner comments almost pensively, and Eren just _now_ realises they are talking about _sex_ and that makes him even more flustered and bewildered, but before he can even recover enough to splutter a response Connie comments again.

“So, someone like Mikasa?” he asks, and the though is so revolting Eren finally is dragged out of his stupor enough to lodge Connie’s hand away in anger, as he could physically send the words away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he almost shouts, mortified and disgruntled, his stomach churning with something akin to panic, and he cannot explain why he is so riled up, but he is, and his heart is pumping with fear, as if preparing for a fight. “She is my _sister_ ,” he hisses.

“Exactly, Connie, don’t be gross,” Jean comments and Eren scowls because there is no way he is doing this for Eren, and somehow the thought of Jean looking at Mikasa _that way_ is just unsettling. “Besides, he is probably got his hots for the titans.” And he continues with something that sounds very close to ‘titan obsessed bastard’ under his breath. 

“Um, guys, maybe we shouldn’t…,” Armin tried to intervene, his eyes fixed on Eren as he realises his friend is somewhere in between panicking and actually punching someone, but no one pays any attention to his words.

“What the fuck is your problem, horse face,” Eren throws towards Jean. “Seriously, that’s gross even from someone with a brain no bigger than an animal’s.”

“Well I’m not the one always going on and on, about killing Titans. Honestly, it’s almost as if you never thought about fucking someone around here,” Jean grumbles, himself annoyed with the insult.

“Well maybe I never thought of fucking a girl!” Eren finally snaps and all but yells, his lungs heaving to catch the air that isn’t cool enough to steer away the boiling anger under his skin.

His words are met with silence, and it takes a few seconds to understand that everyone is staring at him. His eyes pass from Connie, close but still frozen at an odd angle after his aggressive move. Armin, on the bed in front of his, his blue eyes sympathetic and understanding. Jean is next and Eren feels himself blush –from anger not embarrassment, _anger_ damn it - at the incredulous look the other throws his way. Reiner is just as shocked, and Berthold next to his side looks slightly uncomfortable to where the conversation ended, but he never seems willing to participate in these conversations anyway. And Eren bites the inside of his cheek, not helping the feeling of foreboding in the silence that barely lasts a few seconds, a part of him knowing that what he said was _odd_ and different, his heart stuttering in nervousness as he braces for the impact of his words.

The boys do not disappoint.

“What really?” Connie asks and his face is clearly surprised if not quite shocked. Eren hates it almost as much as he hates how the other’s attention is directed his way.

“Well…kind of?” he says nervously, his eyes finding Armin’s in a silent plea for help. “I mean… I didn’t really think about it that way… I guess.” And he hates how insecure he sounds even to his own years.

“Not even a crush?” Connie insists, and after his silent shake of head he is clearly shocked.

“Huh. Who would have thought? Maybe the bastard does actually think only about killing Titans,” and Eren is too vulnerable and bewildered to snap before Armin beats him to it with a snappish “Oh, shut up, Jean.”

“Maybe he is a late bloomer,” Reiner comments, and Connie looks pensive. Eren wants to bristle and ask – demand – why is his answer so wrong, what is the big deal, what does it even matter when they are here to train so they could not die in just a few years, why does he even have to go out of his way to like someone anyway, but the words are locked, unable to come to light and to be heard, a complex code of frustration and confusion he cannot make sense of enough to translate it to others.

“What about boys then?” Connie asks, and he looks a little bit less comfortable, as he blunders on. “I mean you and Armin are close…,” he says his eyes straying to the other bed Armin sits on.

Eren is glad Armin lets out the indignant yelp he chokes on his own breath, throwing him directly into a coughing fit that makes him unable to deny the absurd accusation. Armin thankfully is more than capable of shooting the idea down in an instant as Eren is still trying to gather his wits enough to stop coughing and control the urge to actually strangle Connie.

He hopes the conversation is done, but it isn’t. Connie looks at a loss for words, even as he is sheepish, Reiner looks at him with raised eyebrows his arms crossed, Berthold can’t quite meet his eyes, and Jean looks both confused and judgemental, and Eren _hates_ it, but he can’t do anything about it.

“Most probably a late bloomer,” Reiner comments trying to go for casual though Eren knows he is also a bit surprised.

“Wait, but not even a crush?” Connie persists, repeating the previous question with some sort of surprised fascination. When Eren looks blankly at him, Connie helplessly turns towards the others. Jean says something under his breath again, and this time Armin does use the nearest pillow to smack Jean in the face with it, but Eren can’t even find the power to feel pleased about that. He is still a confusing mix of humiliated, embarrassed and angry, and he finally finds the power to snap a coherent sentence.

“I don’t even see what the big deal is! Who cares anyway?! I just never thought about it, not when there are so many much important things we should think about like…”

“Yes, yes, killing titans. The biggest turn on of the universe,” Jean drawls, and this gives Eren the best outlet for his anger, and as the conversation degenerates the subject is dropped, and he can finally breathe better, tension draining out through his anger, since the weird interrogation is done.

It is not done.

For a while, Eren feels everyone eyes on him. He doesn’t understand why, but there is an unpleasant feeling as if everyone is watching his moves, analysing his interactions. And he doesn’t need Armin’s insight or Mikasa’s answers about her scowl to trace back the sudden attention he harbours to the discussion he had with the others. He is many things, but completely oblivious isn’t one of them, even as many things usually slip his attention. It dies down after a while, but the inquisitive looks are branded in his memory, as is the way his skin prickled when he knew he was watched as he forgot his place and interacted too casually with Mikasa and Armin at times. He knows they don’t mean harm, he knows that they are only curious – not in a bad way per se, only trying to understand - but he cannot shake the feeling of wrongness it adds to the whole situation, their surprise only feeding on the uncomfortable realisation he has thought about long ago.

Eren is 15 years old when he finally has to accept that he is different than everyone else.

 


	2. Of unbidden storms and unwilling acceptances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last words are a muffled yell against Armin’s shoulder, his hands clutching his friends as everything flows through him undiluted and far too much, and he doesn’t know why this is so important to him, why suddenly, because of so many taunts and mocking words, his whole view of the world has shifted around to make it seem like he is broken, but it did, and at least for now he feels too little, not enough, a broken masterpiece of his restless feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this have an update pace? Not a chance in hell.

_“Armin, what does love mean to you?”_

_His best friend raises his head from the book he had been engrossed in, and without missing a beat he gives his answer._

_“A feeling of strong affection. Why?” he asks curiously, his head turning slightly towards Eren’s hunched form._

_The sun is nothing more than a fiery whisper of a dying star enveloping the world in a tender embrace as dusk breaks into night. The small river passing through Shinganshina twinkles playfully, it’s currents a murmur of unbidden, unrestrained wilderness passing through the village away, so far away from the walls caging all of them within. Despite all that, Eren doesn’t feel touched by the shy caress of the breeze or by the grass under his feet. His form is hunched, arms hugging his knees close to his chest, only a pair of bright green eyes – burning with unnamed feeling, so bright, almost too bright like the explosion of a star at the edge of its lifespan about to collapse onto itself, unwilling bowing to the tumult of its violent intensity – the only thing visible to the rest of the world._

_Armin snaps his book shut and turns towards Eren, his blue eyes kindly worried as he takes in the petulant, yet pensive aura of his best friend. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to; sometimes the easiest way to Eren’s heart is through an expecting silence._

_Eren caves in, and green meets blue briefly before his friend seems to hug himself even tighter, as if he could hide away from the thoughts plaguing his mind._

_“You know that’s not what I meant,” he grumbles, the admission barely heard over the song of the river nearby, drowned by the muffled sounds of the city not far away from them. Armin doesn’t say anything, he just raises an expecting eyebrow, quietly demanding an explanation from his friend._

_“Actually, I do not know what you meant, Eren,” he responds firmly, yet warmly. “What is this about?” he asks worry etching in his tone alongside curiosity._

_Eren shrugs, and his eyes don’t seem to move over the scenery, lost inside the whirlwind of his thoughts, until he finally raises his head, hesitating only for a second before opening his mouth._

_“Hey, Armin, do you think we’re weird?” When he sees Armin raising both his eyebrows at the unnecessary question, the unsaid answer clear enough, he clarifies. “Not in that way, it’s just…”_

_“Just?” Armin prompts._

_“Jonas said a few things a while ago,” Eren finally blurts the thing so fast it can barely be properly understood, words tumbling from his lips ashamed and unwilling at the same time, ripping down the walls holding his vulnerabilities safe and away – non-existent – from everyone else._

_Armin looks at Eren his eyes lighting up with understanding, a small pained look crossing his features before he pushes away the book in his lap with a sigh. Eren looks at Armin, a mixture of apprehension and expectation clouding the vibrant green of his eyes in a darker shade of worry._

_“Oh, so it’s about that,” Armin continues, his mind whirling, trying to catch the right words to say. “You know it isn’t like that… You don’t have to listen to their nonsense, I would never look at you, Eren, in that way…”_

_“It’s not that!” Eren suddenly exclaims, his words ringing out in the companionable silence of their temporary heaven with an echo of hurt and desperation. “Fuck, Armin, it isn’t about that…,” Eren adds, his eyes closing for a second, as a painful look passes over his face. “You know I wouldn’t care about if the other boys came up with rumours that I love you.” It is true after all he wants to add, but considering the unbreakable loop his thoughts have been running around for a few days now he feels the words foreign, unreachable, a tainting insult of his sentiments._

_Armin doesn’t say anything, his friend taking in his words trying to see where Eren’s distress comes from, and obviously failing._

_“Then what is the problem Eren?” Armin asks, his voice encouraging, as he scoots closer to the small figure of his friend, an ache in his blue eyes at his obvious distress._

_“It’s… just… I’ve been thinking,” Eren starts, the words clipped and stubborn, his thoughts unwilling to be expressed outside the confines of his head, shameful and odd, so difficult to even put into form. “I didn’t realise it at first, why I was angry. But I just was, and their words have stirred this… gapping void that just seems to suck away my thoughts, until nothing but restlessness is left,” Eren continues, and his eyes are again lost, seeing a place unreachable to Armin no matter how many times he tries running towards it, his hand clutching over his heart, shirt bunched in his tiny fist._

_“In the end I think… it was the idea of love itself,” Eren admits, no louder than a whisper. The breeze surges in a playful caress, slowly wafting the secret away, a thought afloat a sea of empty confusion. “That’s… why I asked. What is love to you?” Eren asks once more, his eyes finding Armin’s, and maybe, there is a tiny spark of confused desperation, agitated hope bearing down onto Armin demanding answers lost to his own understanding._

_“Love,” Armin mutters thoughtfully. “I guess it’s a willingness to get drunk on poison hoping you’ll get it to taste like heaven.” Eren gapes at him before finally moving from his position just to shove Armin away grumbling under his breath over such a vague answer. Armin laughs sheepishly, though there is a certain degree of relief to see his friend characteristically miffed._

_“I was serious, Armin!” he exclaims, and Armin gets back up to his side, a smile on his face._

_“I am sorry, I don’t know what that was, it just came to me,” he says. And Eren doesn’t care much about complex explanations, so he doesn’t pay much attention to it right then._

_It is only years later that he remembers those words, almost lost on a breath of wind, an unwilling spectre of confusion once more reappearing to torment his mind._

* * *

Eren is 15 when his world is destroyed the second time around.

One would think that after the first time he would get used to it. Compared to the first time, the death count is so negligible, almost laughable, and is brushed aside even by official authorities. Yet, that doesn’t change anything for Eren because he can _feel_ the warm slick blood running disgustingly through his fingers, while a new set of horrifying memories are instilled in his head – a new set of screams, the smell of iron, of sweat, of _death_ – unwilling to be forgotten, more regrets and horrors to haunt his mind.

Eren is 15 when he discovers he is a monster.

He doesn’t have time to realise what is happening. He doesn’t have time to process anything at all, before life shoves up his throat a decision there was no way he was not going to refute, his new powers – a curse, an ability, a lie, foreign, _foreign_ , and _inhuman_ – the only chance humanity has at salvation. 

Eren is 15 when he is renegaded from donning the title of a human being, as he is chained down in a dungeon behind a set of bars more concrete than the walls that had suffocated his freedom all his life, darkness a mocking curtain of incredulity in regards to his very nature.

He doesn’t cry. There isn’t anything left for him to cry about – his tears had run out years ago, rivulets of horror and desperation as warm as the blood oozing from his mother’s body as she was slowly eaten in front of him – but there is a sense of incredulity, of irritation at how _odd_ and ironic his life truly is. 

As Eren wonders if he is a half-diseased human being, life proves to him that he isn’t human at all.

And it hurts. Hurts so badly his breath is snatched from the pain of it the first time panic engulfs his mind as he wakes up in a lonely cell, shackles around his wrists pinning him down, barely giving him space to move in the confines of his bed – and Eren has felt for all his life like a chained down bird, a reluctant convict of his destiny, but it had never felt like _this_ – a painful reminder that everything in his memory had actually happened.

It is then that life throws another twist in his world.

* * *

_“Why are you thinking so badly about this anyway?” Armin asks. “It sounds painfully complex and complicated, you could hurt yourself,” he teases, even though the worry is still present in his eyes._

_Eren doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and when he does his voice holds a solemn wisdom that seems so at odds with his usual short-tempered self._

_“I think I might be different,” he says, and his voice is pensive as it is upset. Armin doesn’t need to prompt more answers out of Eren, because he gives them freely._

_“Armin, I think there is something very, very odd about me. Something that makes me a different from you and mum and even dad…” And as the words die on his lips, foreboding and confusing Eren gazes at the last rays of sunlight before the sun hides behind the towering walls, its warmth engulfed away to meet with an unseen – unreachable – horizon._

_“It makes me wonder if I am even human when others put it like this…,” he whispers, veiled by the extending shadows, hands of darkness caressing his face, as his eyes glow with thinly veiled contempt._

* * *

As Eren gazes into the face of the person he had forever admired the most in the world, the memory of a conversation from long ago invades his mind, painfully unwanted, especially when his life had turned to be such a mess, and he just wants to laugh. A hysterical, tired laugh, a pathetic cry for the simpler times when something like _that_ was his biggest worry, when he could actually pretend his hands weren’t bathed in blood, when it seemed as if he was making it all up so he could stand out from the rest of humanity.

But the words are choked up in his throat, and there is an itching in his chest, as his eyes can barely believe what he is seeing in front of him in between flashes of impossible memories – but it was him, he did turn into a Titan, it was all _real_ – and he doesn’t know how to deal with everything anymore, because maybe for the second time in his life Eren needs to admit he is overwhelmed, drowning under the merciless waves of reality.

Levi is everything he has imagined, while he manages to be a paradoxical coarse surprise.

So when he is asked what he wants to do there is simply only one answer, and it overflows, words carrying the burden of his conflicting feelings – pain, hatred, self-loathing, hurt, and fear, fear, so much fear, he can drown it – a damning promise, the willing acceptance of another cage.

Levi doesn’t smile, doesn’t look at him with anything but apathetic disinterest, and Eren doesn’t know many things, but he knows that his starry eyed imagining as a kid were not going to be true if he ever were to meet the man himself, yet that look, in that particular moment – a cold age of barely contained dislike – just turns his world upside down, because it shatters any illusion that he could be looked at as anything else besides a monster.

And when the promise comes – blunt, merciless, a calculated vow of frost – he isn’t surprised, not really even as his heart squeezes in his chest with fear, so familiar yet so different because he had never felt anything besides undiluted horror in front of the Titans, but this is something else – a trembling whisper of anxiety coated in dread – so surreal coming in response to the man he had seen as a manifestation of his most tender wishes.

And later in the courtroom, when the stone is digging painfully in his knees, his arms wrung behind his back so tightly that feels like they might pop out of their sockets – humiliating, humiliating, _humiliating_ , worse than cattle waiting for their death; he knows from the gleeful looks interwoven with disgust that they _love_ to see him grovel at their feet – after he screams his voice hoarse, containing so much emotion that he can barely keep it at bay between moments of excruciating numb confusion – a fog muffling his senses, as his body is caught in an endless loop of burning from feeling too much and freezing from not feeling at all – he relishes in the pain that comes from his subordination even as his whole body revolts against it. And disgustingly his mind shuts off, gives into the more present agony of his body, blood coating his face, choking him, flowing freely on the pristine floor – a mocking crimson, a disgusting mimicry of everything he no longer feels like he is – and _relishes it_ to the same extent he wants to cry against it, his mind high on pain coaxing an unwilling admission out the dark depths of his soul.

_A treatment fit for a monster like him._

* * *

_“What are you saying Eren?” Armin asks quite shaken by his friend’s weird behaviour, as well as the heavy tone of the conversation, the words convoluted and pressing with a heavy feeling over both of them. “What do you mean ‘not human’?” And no one can blame him for the slight tinge of fear coating his voice._

_“It’s just complicated, Armin,” Eren finally relents frustration colouring his voice. “Answer me do you ever see himself getting married?”_

_“Well… yes, I guess…. Eventually, maybe. Why?” Armin splutters surprised._

_“Well that’s the thing Armin,” Eren almost whines. “I don’t see myself getting married. Ever.”_

_“A lot of people feel that way…”_

_“Not in this way,” Eren denies looking aside, jaw set in tension, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt nervously. “You remember Mia?” he asks again. He doesn’t wait for Armin to respond to this; his blush is proof enough. “You had a crush on her,” he continues undeterred._

_“I… Yes? I don’t know. She was cute and all, and I…”_

_“You wanted to hold her hand, and do all the lovey-dovey stuff,” Eren interrupts, and Armin is too mortified, his cheeks positively burning to deny the accusations of his friend. “You felt it in your heart… something, a stirring, a thing that first pushed you to have these thoughts,” he comments. “Something…”_

_Armin looks caught in between wanting to run away and being unable to find his words to respond to this. In the end he sighs, his hand coming up to muss his hair in a frustrated gesture._

_“Well, I guess,” he agrees, though his voice contains a tinge of exasperation. “Maybe you can call it something like that. Eren, still where does all this come from, you’re overthinki…”_

_“That’s the whole thing I was trying to say. I don’t think I can feel something like that myself,” Eren grounds out finally, and the way the words leave his lips they seem more like an unwilling confession of a criminal. He feels bad, the whole conversation makes him slightly dizzy if he were to be honest, but he needs Armin to understand, a desperate need that contains no basis for logic. But that’s how he has always been, a storm of emotion overflowing into every crevice of his being, filling him up to the brim, surpassing any instinct or logic. And he doesn’t know why it matters so much, why his minds comes time and time again to this topic undeterred, but it does, and it makes him restless, a puzzle with no beginning or end in sight._

_“I… I love mum. And my stupid old man. I also think I love you. I… just don’t think it’s the same kind of love,” he continues, the words hidden under a petrol sky turning into shattered pieces of  inky nothingness, just as pale blue gives way to pitch black, that somehow fit together united by twinkling starts. “I… my skin crawls. Don’t get me wrong, I know how important you are to me Armin, you’re my best friend, but hearing them say that… I just felt so angry…,” And he trails off, honesty at the tip of his tongue, the need to explain how it felt, as if the stiches that keep the seams of his person were unravelling because of some simple assumptions. But he can’t so he swallows the words and continues._

_“It just feels wrong, and it didn’t feel any righter as I thought about later on falling for someone. Settling next to someone. Being bound to them,” and there is no way for him to hide the venom coating his last words. “I hate how it has this effect on me. Looking at couples around town… it feels wrong the moment I imagine a person like that next to me. Suffocating.” And there are no words to explain the restlessness, the violent tempest of his fight in his soul, the fabric of his being torn apart._

_Armin’s hand is warm, his touch firm expressing all the unsaid grief over his friend’s suffering. It is only when kind words reach his ears, and warm finger brush his cheeks in a furtive caress, does he realise he is quietly crying, his fingers digging hole in the grass as he tries to hold it all in. So, he doesn’t protest when Armin is suddenly there, close, so close, his arms a protective stronghold around him, and Eren doesn’t know what this grief is or what is he crying about, but a sob leaves his lips as Armin pushes his head in the crook of his neck, his small arms rubbing comforting circles against his back._

_“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Armin coos, and Eren can barely breathe because it is not._

_“No it isn’t,” he chokes out, “it can never be okay. I don’t know anything anymore,” he confesses the words spilling, ink flowing out from the torn out pages of the written script of his soul. “How can I be okay? I… I… I hate it. I hate that I doubt this. I hate that now I think there is some brokenness inside me that was never meant to be. I hate how I am somehow lesser, because what I say love is might not be even enough for you, or mum, or dad, just a stupid joke, a half-assed feeling that can’t ever be counted as enough. But at the same time I can’t imagine myself loving someone. It is not that it is impossible, but the feeling is so far away from, a foreign desire, because each time I can only feel as if it’s another cage, a knot against my neck that pulls mercilessly, and I can’t even find it in me to wish for it. And it hurts, because you deserve it, and so does mum, and dad, and I just don’t feel like I am a lesser human being for being unable to respond in kind!”_

_The last words are a muffled yell against Armin’s shoulder, his hands clutching his friends as everything flows through him undiluted and far too much, and he doesn’t know why this is so important to him, why suddenly, because of so many taunts and mocking words, his whole view of the world has shifted around to make it seem like he is broken, but it did, and at least for now he feels too little, not enough, a broken masterpiece of his restless feelings._

_“I just want to love and I don’t know how,” he grounds out, but so much is left unsaid. He wants to be able to love in any way freely without it being lesser or wrong. He wants to stop doubting, he wants it to stop hurting, he wants it to be okay, he just wants to not care anymore… It is confusing and messy, and Armin is there for him as the thunder breaks in the storm of his breakdown, and that does make it a little better._

_“It is okay, Eren,” Armin assures him, “I am sure one day you will find someone to make everything right,” and Eren sobs as Armin hugs him, but this time is with a different kind of pain, because that is not what he wished to hear from his friend. He didn’t want someone to come and fix things for him, he just wanted to hear it was okay._

_That it will be okay._

_That he was okay._

_That he was as human as anyone else._

_That everything was right._

_But as the crescent moon rose, pale rays reflecting pensively in the tireless river, a flash of muted light in the darkness of the night, Eren felt as if nothing was right._

_But maybe that was okay too._

 


End file.
